


Bad Things Happen Bingo: Accidentally Hurt by Friend

by taylor_tut



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Injury, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 18:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A little drabble in which BJ blames himself after a patient breaks Hawkeye's rib.





	Bad Things Happen Bingo: Accidentally Hurt by Friend

BJ felt sick to his stomach as he poured over the x-ray in front of him. He'd been sitting and staring at it for the past fifteen minutes, hiding from the card game that was likely still waiting on him and wanting a drink but knowing that to go back to the Swamp to get one would mean having to run into—

"BJ," speak of the devil, Hawkeye greeted. "You should get out of your coat; it's time for poker. We're going down to the bar." 

BJ frowned. "Should you be drinking?" he asked. "If you've taken painkillers—"

"—I'm driving; just gonna have some ginger ale. Thank you, doctor."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, BJ shook his head. "I'm good, thanks," he said. "Still got some work to do around here." 

"If you think I'm going to let you sit here and brood while the rest of us play, you're out of your mind," Hawkeye threatened. 

"I'm not brooding," he argued, but neither of them were really convinced. 

"Then why are you pouring over an x-ray of a bone break that happened six hours ago and is already stabilized?" 

"Because it's yours," he answered automatically. "And because I caused it."

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused as if he couldn't see the link that was SO OBVIOUS to BJ himself. "What are you talking about; you caused it? You didn't kick me in the ribs."

"Yeah, but I told you I sedated the guy who did."

"You DID sedate the guy," Hawkeye pointed out. "Not your fault that he didn't get the memo." 

BJ wanted to argue that it sort of WAS his fault, actually, since he'd accidenally given the patient 0.5 mg of sedative rather than the 5 mg that would have been necessary to knock him out, but the look on Hawkeye's face stopped him. He was tired—obviously he was tired. The day had been long, then he'd gotten kicked in the side by a patient, then he'd worked another two hours before Margaret found him vomiting from pain after stepping out between patients for what he said was a pee break and had strongarmed him into getting an x-ray, which had revealed one broken and one fractured rib. He'd been dismissed to go get some rest, but he'd let it slip that he couldn't sleep because it was too uncomfortable to lie down without painkillers and Radar couldn't deny the possibility that more wounded would come until an hour ago, so he'd refused to take anything for it. 

"How long are you going to beat yourself up over it?" Hawkeye asked. "I'm asking seriously, because if you're genuinely guilty, I can't take advantage, but the second you're able to laugh about it, I'm ready to milk it for all it's worth and let you spoon-feed me soup."

BJ couldn't help but crack a smile. Damn Hawkeye was always able to do that to him no matter how much he didn't want to.

"Alright, alright," he caved, "it's a deal." 

"Yay," Hawkeye said with a small, celebratory hand gesture. "Now, poker?"

BJ rolled his eyes. "Sure," he agreed not-so begrudgingly. It was a weight off his shoulders to allow himself to swap some of that guilt for copious amounts of waiting on him hand and foot for a few days until Hawkeye got bored of it. 

 


End file.
